TALLINN - With the amount of attention Tiit Maekivi gets, you'd think he was a rock star. I gave up counting the number of times our conversation, in an outdoor cafe in Tallinn's Old Town, was interrupted by strangers wanting a piece of him. Nearly everyone passing by pointed or stared. A few asked to have their photos taken with him. Most, however, just wanted to touch his copper buttons.
"You can also kiss me if you want to," he told one woman, the hint of a sly smile barely visible under his bushy beard.
Maekivi is one of a dwindling number of Tallinn's chimney sweeps, an ancient profession that carries with it hard work, tradition and more than its share of legend. Dressed from head to toe in black and with ropes and brushes slung over his shoulder, he couldn't be mistaken for anything else.
In a town where hundreds of houses still rely on wood-burning stoves for heat, Maekivi's trade is in high demand, especially in September and October when the cold weather sets in. And it's a job he seems to be made for.
"Not everyone can go onto the roofs, they're afraid of heights," he said. "We have a saying, 'He who hugs the chimney will never become a chimney sweep.'"
For all his enthusiasm, Maekivi is a relative newcomer to the trade. His ground-level jobs have included taxi driver, collective farmer and high-school shop teacher. Now nearly 45 years old, Maekivi made the shift to full-time chimney sweep three years ago after a long stint as an expert fireplace builder.
His job is fairly straightforward. He gets orders from clients, climbs onto roofs, and cleans chimneys using a variety of tools and brushes. The whole operation only takes about five minutes. Still it's one that has to be done with care.
"You have to clean every corner," he said, "But if you do it too long then the soot goes into the room."
These orders can keep him busy anywhere from two to eight hours per day. The pay is good, but the work is seasonal and depends on good weather.
"When the conditions aren't right, I won't go out on the roof," he said, explaining that wind more than 10 meters per second is too dangerous to work in. In the slippery winter months he can't go out at all and has to supplement his income with more fireplace building.
Sometimes tasks are much more complicated, and involve measuring heating systems and installing specialized equipment. In fact, it's dealing with changing technology, like new types of boilers and oil heaters, which Maekivi finds most rewarding about his trade.
The more the technology changes, however, the more the chimney sweeps in Tallinn seem adamant about holding on to their age-old customs. Like many of his colleagues, Maekivi goes for the traditional garb, making him look like a character from a Victorian sketch.
Legend tells us that the black suits that make up the chimney sweeps' uniform were originally cast-offs from undertakers' wardrobes. They gave the profession an air of respectability, and the color black was highly practical in a trade involving so much soot.
Maekivi explained that in Czarist times, those at the master level would wear a top hat. The large buttons on the jackets also signified rank's iron was for the lowest, copper (like Maekivi's) were mid-level, and silver buttons were for masters. These traditions have broken down in Tallinn, but the popular lore surrounding them shows no sign of fading.
One example of legend involves the buttons, for example, which are said to be lucky. People believe that any wish will be granted if it's made while touching a chimney sweep's buttons. Naturally this makes Maekivi the center of attention whenever he goes out in uniform. It's something he takes in stride.
Maekivi likes the optimism of the people who believe the lore. "Let them touch them," he said, just as a trio of passing Italians broke into the "Chim Chim Cher-ee" song from Mary Poppins. However he admits that he can't always accommodate.
"When I'm really in a hurry and going through Old Town, I take off the jacket, otherwise it'll take a really long time," he said.
